


The Art of Glass

by Palefire73



Series: Loki Origins [33]
Category: Frigga - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, NorseGods
Genre: Art, Cute Loki, Frigga is an A class mother, Gen, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: Asgard, although the ruling city, is not a gleaming fortress of gold at this point in Loki's life. It is still an amazing sight, but Frigga feels there is room for improvement.When Loki enquires about her drawings, he does something quite delightful.





	The Art of Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fire Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987537) by [Palefire73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73). 



If one was to be so lucky as to visit the realm of Asgard, then the task of describing that place upon one’s return to the mortal world would be nigh on impossible. Without the ability to project what had been seen directly into the brain of another, there were no words to adequately describe the sense of wonder and awe engendered by the vision the realm of the Gods presented. Upon arrival, there would be the blur of the golden interior of the Bi Frost Observatory which would assault the eyes of the person who had endured the Rainbow Bridge itself. Then, as the disorientation – or perhaps nausea – passed, the intricate designs within that golden interior would come into view, depicting the Nine and Yggdrasil, the Bi Frost and the Gods, and other amazing sights too numerous to mention. Heimdallr, although welcoming, would present a formidable, even frightening encounter as he announced the arrival and ushered the visitor to their means of getting to Asgard herself. Then as they walked out of the huge doorway, they would see the distant city basking in the golden sunlight and it would be at this point the wonder of the place would truly hit home.

 

Of course, it was only to be expected. As a mortal, the person lucky enough to make the journey to Asgard would have come from a realm built predominantly by mortal hands, with the limitations of a mortal imagination. And, as talented and creative as we might like to think we are, we are still but pale imitations in comparison to those who have existed for millennia. At this point in Asgard’s history, the city was not yet as magnificent as it would become once Loki had grown up a little, but the huge fortifications were on an impressive scale and would deter most would-be invaders. With a shining and luxurious reception area such as the Bi Frost Observatory and a great view of the city in its south-facing aspect, its status as the seat of the Protector of the Nine was well deserved. By the same token, it was approximately 950 AD or so on Midgard, so the only architecture that could possibly compete with that of Asgard was already falling into ruin, to be succeeded by newer models, such as the cathedrals and castles – some of which we still visit and use today.

 

Not everyone was as impressed with the Realm Eternal in the same way a mere mortal would have been, however. Those who lived there day after day became somewhat immune to the beauty of their home in the same way that people did elsewhere in the Nine and it was this indifference that Frigga, in particular, sought to overcome. She was quite proud of Asgard even though she knew it could be much improved with the right craftsmanship, and she was not altogether happy about the attitude of some of the citizens who thought of it as simply a place to exist. Frigga strongly felt that a realm, or a city, should be a community, a product of all the varied individuals living there and that there should be a sense of pride and belonging. It was these ideas and the acceptance of the fact that Asgard could be seen to be fraying around the poorer edges that drove her to seek inspiration for improvement.

 

One of Frigga’s favourite places to visit was, as has been mentioned quite often in stories previous to this one, Midgard. Having finally settled down a little compared to its nomadic past and yet still undergoing huge changes in its socio-political landscape, Midgard was a realm that played home to a massively diverse collection of cultures, some of whom had no idea others existed. It was still young in terms of its society and civilisation, and many of the mortals that lived there had no knowledge of just how vast a place it was, or of just how many other lands and peoples there were. Some of the races that inhabited Midgard were still primitive in their lifestyles, living in the wilds, and yet the most modern cultures were not exceptionally different; often itinerant, rarely peaceful and very much dependent on the land to give them their living. However, religion was rife amongst these “western” societies and it was the practitioners who were responsible for much of the construction of the settlements’ larger and more permanent structures. And it was this varied architecture that interested Odin’s Queen. Designed to engender awe and obedience in the population, these behemoths constructed from the finest dressed stone, the strongest of seasoned timbers and rare and beautiful metals, mosaics and other fine pieces of art, they were the epitome of architectural magnificence. The beautiful Queen of Asgard had spent many a day wandering around in the presence of the Midgardians – disguised of course – marvelling at the creativity on display and taking ideas home to Asgard. She was especially interested in the progress they were making in the crafting of glass and its subsequent use in windows to depict scenes from their religious texts and was eager to bring similar elements of design into the buildings of her home.

 

“Móðir?”

“Yes, Loki?”

“Móðir, what are those markings you are making on that parchment?” Frigga smiled indulgently at her youngest son, Prince Loki, as his little forefinger pointed at the charcoal sketches she had made from memory. She had recently returned from a beautiful area of Midgard in a country called the Kingdom of Germany. It had undergone a turbulent past and was still very much under the control of the Roman Catholics. It had evolved from the east Frankish Kingdom a few decades previously and Frigga had followed its changes with interest, along with much of the rest of Europe. It was a hotly contested area of Midgard, with empires rising only to fall time and again. This brought with it a grand mixing together of different cultures and styles and the rich diversity in the art to be seen was just one result of the hot-blooded behaviour so rife there. Now that there seemed to be a great push to build monuments to the God of the dominant empire, Rome, across swathes of Europe, Frigga was watching the development of the use of coloured glass to create magnificent tableaux of the tales to be found within the religious texts. She had decided to have a go at designing something similar using the legends of Asgard’s past and was creating some sketches to take to the Palace craftsmen. Loki had wandered into the room just as she had completed the first one.

“That, my son, is your Grandfather, Bor, riding on the Wild Hunt… or, at least, it is an attempt to look something like it!” She chuckled and lifted Loki onto her lap so he could see it better. She picked up a piece of charcoal and gave it to him. Pulling a clean piece of parchment in front of them, she indicated it and said, “Why not draw something you have been told about or something you remember that you thought was wonderful? Something that will inspire admiration in the viewer…” She tapped the parchment, “Let me see what you can do.”

 

Loki eagerly took the charcoal and Frigga watched as he made swift movements over the parchment. Her instinct was to tell him to slow down, to get used to how the willow stick moved on the surface, to see what marks it would make depending on the pressure he was exerting, but she very quickly realised that she should simply allow him to freely express himself. Was that not how children learned? To start to impose rules on how he should use this medium would immediately stifle his creativity, no matter if what he drew made little sense or looked nothing like what he was trying to show. Yet, as she watched, Frigga began to identify shapes that looked like silhouetted buildings and, even though the little boy was constrained by a monochromatic theme, she recognised what he was drawing.

 

Line by line, curved stroke by curved stroke, the scene Loki was creating came to a strange kind of life despite a complete lack of colour. Frigga’s eyes followed his hands in delight as a nightscape of Asgard appeared, with a huge bonfire indicated by leaving some of the cream parchment free of charcoal. Then, as if sketching a negative of a daytime scene, Loki began to blank out more of the paper with the charcoal, leaving behind the bright trails of fireworks in the sky topped with plumes of glittering sparks. A huge grin broke out on the Queen’s face as her son worked quickly, finishing the picture off with a group of children making patterns in the air with sparklers. Of course, the figures were quite rudimentary because of his child-like imagination, but the execution of the drawing was simply amazing. She spent several moments looking at it before Loki swivelled around in her lap to see what she thought of it. She smiled at him lovingly as she licked her thumb and rubbed a smudge of charcoal from the tip of his nose and he blinked and laughed.

 

“Oh Móðir! I love this coal stick! It makes the pictures how I want them. Look…” he turned back to point eagerly, “Here is Thor, and he is holding a splarker… then this is the fire and the big banger fireworks and here is me being held by Fulla and you helping me!” He giggled and pointed at the picture just where the sparkles were showering from the end of the sparkler and Frigga’s heart almost burst with joy as he caused a replay of the night he had first been allowed to use one. Despite the fact that it had been well over a year ago, it seemed it was one of Loki’s fondest memories and the two of them giggled over the way he made the black powder of the charcoal move in patterns just as the sparklers had. Then to top it all off, he recreated the kaleidoscope of butterflies he had treated Fulla and Frigga to on that night. The Queen was once more reminded of the potential inside this hostage child from Jotúnnheimr and she resolved to continue to help him and to teach him how to put it to good use.

 

“Well, my son. I was merely drawing a picture I wanted to be made up in stained glass, but your moving picture is quite simply wonderful!” She said brightly. Loki grinned.

“Glass?” He asked.

“Yes, in a similar fashion to the windows being created on Midgard in their grandest buildings. They are quite beautiful.”

Loki shifted in her lap and looked at his picture. Once again, he waved his hands over it and this time Frigga was truly astounded. Although Loki had never really seen stained glass, it seemed he understood what it was from her short description. Before her, the black and white picture began to change, with bright primary colours bleeding into the tiny butterflies emerging from the ends of the sparklers. These tiny yet beautiful winged insects swirled around and formed a new picture, as awe-inspiring and as profoundly moving as any Icon in a Midgardian Church could be. Loki created a picture from a mosaic of these bright little creatures, moving them magically around on the paper until they were in just the right configuration, and Frigga hugged him tightly as her eyes filled with tears of emotion. It simply could not be any more perfect.

 

On the parchment which had, only moments before, had a monochromatic sketch of a firework display on it, was a depiction of a beatific woman holding a small child in her arms as they both watched a spiral kaleidoscope of colourful butterflies dispersing into the night sky like a shower of the finest fireworks and, if it were possible to manufacture the colours before them, it would have made a glorious stained glass window for all to see in the shining city of Asgard. For the woman, with her blonde ringlets and kindly face was Frigga, and the child she held was none other than her youngest son, Loki.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! I think I sometimes create my own block. The research I needed to do for this piece was quite substantial even though you might not even know what it was I was trying to get right!!! Anyway, here it is after a month of sweating over a small detail!!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading along  
> Palefire73  
> x


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